


Lunatic

by Aaron_The_8th_Demon



Category: S.T.A.L.K.E.R.
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Clear Sky faction - Freeform, Explicit Language, Gen, Inner Dialogue, Matter of Life and Death, Missions Gone Wrong, Predator/Prey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 03:29:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11500854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaron_The_8th_Demon/pseuds/Aaron_The_8th_Demon
Summary: A Clear Sky soldier unwillingly faces one of the most dangerous hunters in the Zone. One-shot.





	Lunatic

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on an experience I had in the Truck Cemetery map for Call of Chernobyl with the Misery addon. I got killed by the fucking thing about 8 times before I escaped, and there were run-ins with zombified stalkers, too.

 

How had Motya gotten this far away from everything? He wasn’t sure, exactly, but somehow now he’d ended up in a massive vehicle graveyard from the first disaster. His detector was screaming, there were anomalies everywhere, and he couldn’t quite be sure where the monster chasing him had gone, either.

Man, he was so fucked. Just a simple research mission… ha! He was a Clear Sky assault troop, with his heavy CS-3a body armor specially outfitted for extended combat. None of this research, artifacts, talking-to-people bullshit. And yet, somehow, being chased across the Dark Valley by a pack of dogs and then a bloodsucker hadn’t gotten him to the north point where he could get to Rostok. Or maybe this _was_ the way to Rostok; he’d never gone that far and couldn’t be sure.

Now, though, he’d take any number of dogs or bloodsuckers or anomalies over this. Motya had wedged himself into the space between two rusted-out BTRs, knowing nothing else could fit in here to get him, and he would’ve crawled in through the hatches but they were stuck from sitting out in the rain for thirty years. Dammit! He should’ve kept running, really, because now he’d gotten himself effectively trapped.

The worst thing about chimeras, aside from their stupidly fast clawed feet or their freakish extra face or the fact that they simply pounced on you and immediately kicked your ass, was that you never heard them. The thing could practically sit on your head and you wouldn’t notice until it’d already eaten half of you.

Actually, Motya decided, this was kind of humiliating. If his friends could see this, he’d never hear the end of it, and when this got his ass killed his grave marker would probably say something like “Here lies Motya Lunatic, he thought he could hide from a chimera.”

Motya swallowed hard and swiped one of his tarpaulin gloves over his visor to get the dust off, then slowly crawled out until his head poked from between the two derelict vehicles. Left - nothing. Right - nothing. Center - the next row of irradiated trash. This place was seriously worse than the garbage.

Motya ducked back in and took another second to gather his nerve, then bolted across the space. It was only a couple of meters, but every step sent a new jolt of terror up his spine, and just that handful of seconds had flooded his body with a new surge of adrenaline by the time he’d scrambled up onto an old fire engine. The thing made his counter go off the chart, so after glancing around again he raced through the next column.

God dammit, the fucking chimera could be breathing down his neck right now and he’d never know it. Motya glanced around again, and then… there! That could save him… A mostly-cleared space, so sure, it didn’t really offer cover if any zombies started shooting his way, but they had terrible aim and he’d have a straight shot through. If Motya could just climb one of those helicopters, onto the rotor or the tail boom, he’d be high enough that even snorks wouldn’t be able to knock him off. It wasn’t tactically ideal, but this was an emergency so the choppers were his best chance.

The slight movement to his right, thankfully not cut off by the edge of his visor, was the only warning. He’d been in the Zone for long enough that his reflexes threw him off the truck he’d been perched atop and he rolled across his arm and shoulder when he hit. Perfectly landing on his feet again, Motya sprinted for the choppers. Dammit, dammit, they might be too high… but the smaller Mi-24s wouldn’t be tall enough to keep him safe…

Motya jumped for it, holding his breath and knowing this was his only shot...


End file.
